Valediction
by amani
Summary: Sequel to "Torn Warrior". How does Trunks react?


"Valediction"

A Sequel to "Torn Warrior"

By Taryn K.

All characters are (c) Mr. Akira Toriyama, and I take no claim to them as my own. The purpose of this fanfiction story is merely for the entertainment of myself and others. Thank you.

"Oh Kami-Sama, Trunks-san...why'd he have to do it? Why'd he have to go and..." Another undulation of anguish pummeled Bra, her salty tears staining the sleeve of Trunks' smoky blue shirt to a dark navy. He sighed, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly, and resting his cheek against the top of her head.

"Ah, Bra-chan...I'm not sure I even understand it myself. Otousan was...complicated. But I think he understood himself a bit more by his death. And he understood love slightly better. You know," he said softly, lifting up Bra's chin with a crooked finger. And, smiling softly, continued with, "You were always his favorite."

This only brought a slight, forced smile from his younger sister, causing the elder to sigh in frustration. "And he wouldn't want you to be moping around like this, now would he?" he asked, with hint of humor in his voice. It was difficult for him to see Bra like this.

She stepped back, her left arm hugging herself, while her right hand wiped away her tears. "Lie, I suppose not..." she said, still unsure of herself, and not letting her gaze meet the sorrowful crystal one of her brother's. "But he wouldn't want a funeral, Trunks-san," her voice rose in spirit slightly, coming to a defiant standpoint. And her now-stern eyes finally lifted to meet Trunks'.

"Lie..." Trunks said uneasily. "He wouldn't. Which means we won't be having one. He wouldn't want to have all his...eh...friends, sitting around a coffin and moping. Especially not his coffin. I never knew what the Saiya-jin tradition was, either....I'll bury him. I suppose he would be content with that. Yes. I'll bury him out...far out..."

"And Okaasan," Bra interrupted, then her voice softened. "They both would have wanted to be buried together." She felt oncoming dampness in her eyes, and she averted her face to hide her inevitable tears. "It's what...they would have wanted." Silent tears ran down her face, glittering in the sunlight, and dropping down to become like dew on the fresh green grass.

+++

Vegeta's body seemed almost weightless, but hardly in a good way. Almost as if it were a phantom body, totally empty of everything. For it had only, in truth, been a mere object for Vegeta's soul to rest in during his time alive. His body was influencial, but not controlling.

A normal person would probably not have guessed that the Saiya-jin Prince was deceased. His body was still naturally warm and colored, a sign of the still-holding Saiya-jin strength, even after death. But of course, there was the hole. Straight through his chest, where he had plunged his burning hand to end the torment of his heart, in the only way he knew how. He had not been raised to know how to deal with emotions. He was a Saiya-jin, and still only had the learnings and instincts of a Saiya-jin. It wasn't truly his fault. Only that he happened to be who he was. In that position.

Trunks knew where to bury his Father. In a way, at least. He knew to bury him in a place he didn't know. A place that no one knew. He knew to bury his Father in a place that did not reside in human knowledge. A Prince deserved to be buried in peace.

As soon as the young teenager's eyes fell on the place, he knew it was perfect. This was the place the last of the full-blooded Saiya-jin race would be buried. A rushing waterfall, it's blue-silver waters running over slick, smooth rocks, tumbled down a cliff, overhanging green foliage shading the bottom pool. Beautiful. Not just beautiful. Beauty.

Trunks chose a spot on the overhanging cliff, under the shade of a young weeping willow. It's thin, whip-like branches, covered in tiny, apple-green leaves, twisted through the air, embracing the breeze as it rushed off the cliff, to dive into the pool.

This was the place.

Trunks fell down slowly to his knees, his father's bare body still in his arms. Extending his ki a bit with some force, soil jumped up from the ground in front of the willow, digging itself out into a hole. Trunks stood, hesitating a moment as he stood over the hole, almost like standing at a barrier. Was he the one killing his father by doing this? Because that's what he felt like. With his will, he was able to place his father's body down, gently, into the soft soil.

"I shall be back, Otousan. I shall be back with your wife."

+++

Trunks did return, a fair amount of time later, with the body of his mother, wrapped in a thick blanket. Unlike his father, Bulma's body was a pale white, and cold to the touch in death. Humans went cold almost instantly...an hour, in truth. But Saiya-jin survived, as they did. They were survivors. Not conquerers, as they thought. But survivors.

Though his mother's body was cold and white, there was no bruise or injury to show how she died. She was almost peaceful, or perhaps serene, in her death. Her features were calm and gentle, as he had known them to be, when she was being his mother, and stroking his hair to lull him to sleep at night. That was when she was his mother, and nothing else in the world. Not even his father's wife. Just his mother. Okaasan.

"I'm sorry things had to end like this, Otousan. I tried to warn you, but...I...I couldn't tell you. Not directly. Kami-sama, how I tried to warn you..." Bitter tears stroked Trunks' crystal blue eyes, tears of utter grief and pain. It shouldn't have had to be this way. But then again...he couldn't change anything.

Trunks bit his lip tightly, trying to hold back his sorrow. After a moment, he could taste sweet, crimson blood in his mouth. He would have wiped his bleeding chin, if not for the fact that he held his mother tightly in his arms.

His father hadn't moved. He wouldn't of, though. He was dead. But some thought in the back of Trunks' had hope. But of course, there wasn't any reason for it. His father was dead. He knew that.

With utter and pure reluctance, Trunks kneeled gradually, feeling tears come to his eyes again. He reached out his arms, and gently let his blanketed mother come to rest by her one love.

"It shouldn't have had to be this way," he whispered.


End file.
